Winter Kills
by OrangeBlossomMoss
Summary: A FireflyBuffyverse crossover where we learn the truth about River my first submission, hope you like it.


Winter Kills

"You sure comin here is such a good idea?" Jayne Cobb asked, as the town came into view.

Malcolm Reynolds shot him a sidelong glance. "What do you mean?"

"Well, last time we came here, you wound up married to a girl who almost got us all kilt."

Mal grimaced.

"Twice," Jayne added, as if he needed reminding.

"That is not going to happen again," Mal growled. "Were you in some other room when Gammon waved us yesterday? Cause I seem to recollect you were right next to me when he told us about Saffron." And indeed, it appeared Saffron… Bridget… Yolanda… whatever-the-hell her name was… had fooled Gammon and the citizens of Triumph as well, telling a tale of how her parents had been killed in an accident, and could she please take refuge in their Maiden House until her betrothed came to meet her?

"We're just deliverin goods and a little medical help this time, not runnin off cattle rustlers. They ain't goin to pay us in girls _every_ time we show up."

"If they really did that, wouldn't they run out of girls after a while?" Simon asked.

This possibility rendered Jayne speechless.

Sitting behind Simon on the Mule, River gazed around her at the landscape. Mal wasn't sure why he'd brought her along, except he'd thought she might appreciate some fresh air. Or maybe to reward her- River's condition had improved greatly since the incident at Miranda. She'd rediscovered things like table manners and personal hygiene, and even responded coherently when people spoke to her. She still had her spells, of course, but they were getting milder and farther apart.

On the other hand, she still said the damndest things sometimes.

It was winter. The countryside was covered with several inches of snow, and landmarks were hard to make out, or else buried completely. The snow muffled sound as well; except for the dull roar of the Mule's engine, everything was silent and serene. The quartet was nicely bundled up, and Jayne was proudly wearing the ridiculous hat his mother had knitted him.

"They're all dreaming under the snow," River said cheerily.

"Who?" Simon asked. His sister gave him That Look. "The hibernating animals are dreaming?"

"What do animals dream 'bout anyway?" Jayne snorted.

"Food. Babies. Sex. Happy things."

"Hell, gal, _I_ dream about sex, too."

"Their dreams are prettier than yours," River said tartly.

As the Mule came over a hill, they could see Triumph spread out before them.

The little town had grown a bit in the past year; there was a milliner's now, a barbershop, and a small inn. More houses- geodesic domes that were hardly more than huts- dotted the surrounding hills. The meeting house had recently received a coat of whitewash, but the remainder of the buildings had been rendered a dull gray by the elements.

A trio of young ladies were watching from the front window of the Maiden House; their dour chaperone stood behind them. Inside the barber shop, both barber and customer stared openly as the Mule rolled by.

Elder Gammon awaited them on the porch of the meeting house.

"My friends!" he greeted them warmly. Mal climbed down and offered the old man his hand. "It's a joy to see you again!" He clasped hands with Jayne as well, and then eyed Simon speculatively. "And this is your doctor?"

"Simon Tam, Elder Gammon," Mal introduced them. "And this is his sister-"

"The animals are dreaming of spring," River declared, smiling.

"River. She's… unique."

Gammon smiled gently at her. "The Lord gives us troubled children, to teach us how better to love," he said, and offered his hand to River. Instead of shaking it, she curtsied prettily at him.

"Walk with me, gentlemen, and I'll show you what troubles us." He sighed. "This wasting sickness has baffled our healers…."

Inara was wrapping herself in a soft fur cloak as she approached Kaylee. "Have you seen Zoë around?" she asked.

"Up on the bridge," Kaylee said. She paused in her repair work and scratched her nose, leaving a smear of grease. "I'm worried about her. She hasn't been the same since…"

"I know," Inara agreed.

"Just wish there was something I could do."

"You're giving her her space, I think that's all anyone can do." Inara began buttoning up. "She knows you care about her, trust me."

"You off to win a new heart?" Kaylee grinned.

"Reconnecting with one I already won," Inara smiled. She waved pleasantly and made her way to the bridge.

Zoë was staring out at the snow. She was still as a statue, except for the silent tears that slid down her face. Inara cleared her throat quietly.

"Oh," Zoë said. "Inara."

The companion held out her hand. In it was a small glassine tube perhaps two inches long.

"That's it?"

"It's what you asked for, yes."

Zoë took the tube and examined it quietly. She made no effort to wipe her face; and instead squinted at the odd little tube.

"I've never seen one like this before. How does it work?"

"You hold the wide end against your thumb and press the button at the narrow end. There's a lancet inside- it collects a few drops of blood and…"

"And then it tells you?"

"Yes. The tube fills with mist."

"Mist." Zoë repeated. She turned the tube over in her hand a few times, and then slipped it into her pocket. "Thanks." She turned back to gazing out the window.

Inara resisted the urge to squeeze the other woman's shoulder, and after a moment more, she slipped quietly away.

Simon listened intently to the young man's heart. It was laboring; he was gasping for air and his lips had taken on a bluish cast.

"Any thoughts?" Gammon asked.

"It's… odd," Simon said. He sat back and thought for a moment. The patient's skin was pale as alabaster and nearly flawless, except for a few marks that resembled insect bites. "If I didn't know better, I'd say it was blood loss."

"That's…" Gammon looked confused. "He's not cut anywhere."

"No," Simon agreed, "and if the bleeding were internal, there'd be swelling in the abdominal area." The young man's belly was flat as a washboard. "How long has he been like this?"

"He was a bit under the weather on Monday. Slept most of the day, seemed to perk up right around sundown. Went downhill from there."

"What was he doing before that?"

"It was his turn to be on watch. We've been having a bit of trouble with cattle falling ill, as well." In answer to Mal's questioning look, Gammon added, "Only one at a time, every few days, and none of the cattle have died. Still, it's troublesome."

"Is anyone else sick like this?"

"Not now. We've lost three men to… whatever it is, though. One by one, just wasted away like Caleb here."

The machine on the bedside table beeped, and Simon picked it up and surveyed the results of the blood test. They were baffling, to say the least; no odd bacteria or viruses showed; not even prions. There wasn't even an elevated white cell count.

"Pretty colors," the man sighed. He smiled. "She's so beautiful."

Simon frowned. He took a hypo from his bag, attached a vial, and injected it into the Caleb's arm. After a few moments, the man's breathing eased a bit.

"I'd like to examine the… the bodies of the other men," Simon said.

"Can't do that, son." Gammon said. "We burned them, in case there was some contagion…" He paused. "You don't suppose they caught this from the cattle, do you? All three were on watch when they fetched up sick."

"Conjure the night watch might have something to do with it, then," Mal said. "What about you, doctor?"

"Might be related," Simon nodded.

There was a sound of laughter from outside. Mal moved to the window and was greeted by a startling sight.

A group of children we watching, entranced, as River walked along the top of a split rail fence. Her arms were outstretched for balance as she moved gracefully along a rail barely an inch wide. The wind whipped at her hair and coat, but she was unfazed. River made it to a fence post, did a quick pirouette on top of it, and continued in the opposite direction. Sensing that she had new audience members, she looked up briefly and waved.

Jayne was leaning against a tree, eyeing the girl and looking bored.

"She's gifted," Gammon commented.

"Might be we should start charging admission to see her," Mal agreed.

"Inara, what a joy to see you again." Marten Kastvan welcomed the companion with open arms.

The walkway was heated from below, and dry as a bone, while snow gleamed high on either side of it. Inara appreciated being able to make a graceful approach without worrying about losing her footing.

"It's been too long, Marten," she agreed, kissing his cheek. "And I must admit, I'm surprised to find you here."

He tucked her arm under his own, and led her inside the dome.

"I'm sure it is," he said. "For my cohorts as well. We'd planned to set up a colony station some thousand miles further to the east. Unfortunately, there was an earthquake."

"I hope nobody was hurt!" she exclaimed.

"It occurred the day before our ship arrived, if you can believe it. Unfortunately, it transformed our building site into a rather large and foul-smelling lake. We sent a wave to the people of Triumph, and they were gracious enough to welcome us to join them."

Inara glanced sidelong at her client. He'd aged considerably in the few years since she'd seen him last; his hair and beard, once a rich chestnut, were now completely gray. His eyes were still blue as sapphires, though, and sparkled with the same humor that she remembered.

"My real surprise is finding such a fine scientist relocated to a fringe world…"

"There were complications to my research," he shrugged. "The Alliance does have a tendency to… redirect things to serve their own purposes."

The interior of the dome was both warm and richly appointed, though not very large. Marten had always preferred comfort to appearance, where lodgings were concerned.

"My cook is just putting the finishing touches on an exquisite meal," he murmured, taking Inara's wrap. "Not, of course, as exquisite as you are."

Inara laughed lightly.

"Marten-my-love…" sighed a voice. Inara saw a pale girl gliding into the room. Dark hair curled gently past her shoulders; her almond eyes took in Inara's appearance with vague interest.

"Yes, Precious?"

"What a pretty girl. Is she for me?"

"No, pet," he said firmly. "The young lady is for me."

The girl cocked her head at Inara, and for some reason it made the companion uneasy. "Your daughter?" she asked softly.

"Ah, Inara Serra, this is Drusilla D'Angelus. Dru, dear, this is Inara, she's a companion." Speaking sotto voce to Inara, he added. "Research subject. Let's just say I felt the need to get her out of harm's way." He looked piercingly at Inara. "Some damage was done that I hope to un-do."

Inara didn't answer. She felt a pang of sympathy. The girl's expression and movements seemed familiar now; she was a lot like River.

Probably for the same reason.

The girl moved towards a window, being careful to skirt the patch of watery afternoon sunlight that came through. "It's all white outside," she whispered. "The Queen of Swords has lost her King, and now the world is dressed in mourning. Chill within, chill without. And there's a girl."

"Is there?"

"Her mind is all full of knives and dreams. I want to taste her, Marten."

"Perhaps later," he soothed. "Excuse me a moment, Inara?" Inara nodded. "Drusilla, my precious, you really need to rest now, you're not well." He slid an arm around the girl's waist. "Why don't you have a lie-down in your room and talk to your dolls for a while?"

Zoë didn't know how long she'd been sitting there. She had drifted off again, and now she found herself stroking the back of Wash's plastic triceratops.

Someone had glued her late husband's toys to the nav console, as a sort of memorial. She suspected Kaylee, although the girl steadfastly denied it.

The last thing she remembered was speaking to Inara. That had been… probably hours ago.

It was ironic, really, she thought. In the weeks since the incident on Mr. Universe's world, River's sanity had flooded back into her at an amazing rate. The girl seemed more lucid… and happier… that anyone had ever seen her. Meanwhile, Zoë felt as if her own sanity were slipping away. When she had work to keep her mind off things, she was as sharp as ever; in the times in between, though, a grey mist of grief had crept into her mind. There were huge blank spaces each day when she did nothing at all except sit and…

And she was still stroking the damned dinosaur.

She pulled her hands away and folded them in her lap. Her shirt was wet. She reached up slowly and found that, yes, her face was wet as well. She'd been crying again without even knowing it.

The smell of food floated up from below. Kaylee was cooking something extra-fragrant, probably to entice Zoë into eating more. Her appetite was erratic these days. She knew she wasn't eating enough.

She gazed out at the snow.

The world outside was dressed in mourning. Just like her.

From below, Kaylee's cheerful voice called "Zoë! I've fixed us some supper!"

Zoë glanced at the chrono on the instrument panel. 1600 hours. She'd missed lunch completely.

Mist… wasn't there something about mist?

The tube! She drew it from her pocket and pressed the wide end against her thumb. Time to find out for sure. She felt the slightest prick, and watched the drops pf blood flow into the tube. And then, seconds later… mist. _Blue_ mist.

Wiping her face on her sleeve, she took a few deep breaths and composed herself, then went downstairs to eat.

Drusilla sat alone in her room. It was as pretty as any room she'd ever had, with lots of Victorian furniture and lots of lovely dolls. And perfume. And a lovely little singing bird in a cage- unlike her other birds, her never seemed to get sick and stop singing. And there were servants, too. They were nervous around her, to be sure, but ever so polite. If only she could get them to take off those nasty silver collars and wrist-guards that Marten had them wear!

Still, there were other toys to play with.

She cupped the dice in her hand. They were very old, almost as old as she was; she'd brought them with her from Earth That Was. She bounced them briefly in her palm.

It was a little game she liked to play with herself called Even or Odd. She would toss the dice and add up the numbers on the two of them. An even number meant a human; an odd number meant an animal. She chewed her lip absently and tossed the dice so that they leapt lightly across the counterpane and came to a stop.

Double sixes. Lovely. Tonight would be a good night.

Drusilla stretched out on the bed for a cat nap, pausing to straighten the gag on her favorite dolly's mouth.

Mal had decided pretty quickly how to handle the situation. Simon would tend to the sick man, while Mal and Jayne would stand watch in place of the village men. And as for River-

She'd be staying in the Maiden House, out of harm's way, for the night.

River decided the Maiden House wasn't too bad- the rooms were as sparsely furnished and small as a nun's cell, but the furnishings were quite nice, and the bed was the softest she'd slept in since leaving her parent's house. And the chaperone was much less dour than she'd seemed at first glance.

Best of all, it was solidly built, and the floors didn't creak. So nobody heard her when, perhaps an hour after dark, she got dressed and crept out into the village.

"Dr. Kastvan! Sir!" Someone was knocking on the bedroom door. Inara woke up in an instant, and Marten only a moment later.

"Yes, yes, I'm coming." He pulled on a robe and went to the door. Outside was a breathless young man in lab clothes.

"It's… you know, _her._ Sir. She got out again."

Marten muttered something under his breath and grabbed his discarded clothes off the floor. "Well, we'll have to go find her, won't we?" He dressed quickly, and gave Inara a distracted kiss on the forehead. "Stay here, my sweet. My Drusilla is a bit unstable; it's safer that you stay here until we have her back and under control." And he hurried out of the room.

Jayne Cobb cradled his gun loosely as he patrolled the perimeter of the town. He didn't have a whole lot of respect for Mal's plan this time, but he figured there wasn't much for him to worry about. Only a complete idiot would attack a man as heavily armed as he was.

The snow crunched beneath his heavy boots, and the pom-pom on his hat bobbed merrily. The two moons overhead- one full, one at about half- shed a lot of light, but the land around him was still a study in blues and grays. Right purty, maybe, but easy to hide in. And cold as a witch's tit, to boot.

Next time they decided to be helpful, he thought, they should help out folks who lived in a more temperate locality.

He didn't hear her come up; suddenly there was somebody just standing by the path. He had his gun cocked and aimed in a nanosecond, before he got a good look at his target.

It was a dark-haired girl, wearing a flimsy dress and a velvet jacket. Pretty things, but hardly enough to keep her warm.

"Are you going to shoot me?" the pale beauty said, looking amused.

"Gorram it, girl, I almost did!"

"My, you're a big one," she cooed.

"You don't know the half of it, honey," Jayne grinned. She had an exotic look her liked, and she was gazing at him in a manner that said he might get some if he played his cards right. He lowered the gun.

"I can make you last a long time," the beauty whispered.

"That'd suit me just fine," he replied. He opened his arms and she glided towards him. She left no footprints in the snow, and her breath didn't cloud the air as she spoke. Jayne's brow furrowed in confusion.

"How're you doin' that?" he asked.

"Hush, my angel."

"I ain't no angel," he said gruffly. He met her eyes and lost himself in them.

"No, you're not." She paused thoughtfully. "An angel burned me once. I didn't like being burned."

Jayne pulled her close, and lowered his head to kiss her. And then her face began to change...

"No touching," said a voice.

Drusilla turned languidly to look at the newcomer.

It was River.

"Don't you know it's rude to interrupt, little girl?" she hissed.

"People aren't cattle," River said. "You can't just feed off them."

"I can," the vampire replied. She turned away from Jayne. "I think I'll eat you first. It won't take long. And it will only hurt a great deal."

River punched her. Drusilla was knocked backwards, to her own surprise.

"Hey…" Jayne said dazedly. "You girls gonna fight?"

"Oh yes," Drusilla said. She backhanded River across the face, and the girl went down.

"Shiny," Jayne said, "Girlfight."

River rolled deftly to her stomach and leapt back to her feet. Drusilla grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head back. River countered with an elbow to the solar plexus; the vampire grunted but did not loose her hold. River spun, ignoring the pain as her hair pulled taut, and thrust her arms swiftly up and out, knocking Drusilla's own grasping arms away.

"I'm going to enjoy this," Drusilla said.

"Not likely," River retorted. She lashed out with a booted foot and caught Drusilla just above the knee; there was a crunch as the bone broke. Drusilla toppled with a gasp.

"We can fight forever; you'll never kill me. You haven't got what it takes."

River didn't answer. She spun in a graceful ballet move and kicked Drusilla under the chin. It should have broken her neck and killed her, but instead she merely yelped.

"That hurt! Mean little girl," Drusilla groaned, rising to her feet. "Play time's over."

There was a sound of running feet, and two men emerged from the trees.

"Drusilla, sweetheart-" Marten said.

The vampire looked up, startled. River took advantage of the distraction, grabbed Drusilla's arm, and swung her up into the air…

And down onto a fence-post.

"NO!" Marten shouted.

"Oh. At last," Drusilla sighed. And died in a puff of dust.

"She was the last of her kind," Marten said sadly. He walked to the patch of dust-covered snow and sighed.

"Good," River declared.

"River?" Jayne said. "You all right, gal?"

"I'm good," she shrugged. "You… you used my name."

"Conjure you saved my life just now. Guess I can call you something besides gal." He rubbed his eyes and looked suspiciously at the grey dust that was drifting across the snow. "She was a vampire or something?"

"She was," Marten said.

"River, gal, if you're gonna keep fighting monsters, you might need someone to watch your back once and again," Jayne muttered.

"I suppose I could do with a Watcher, Jayne," River said softly.

Zoë stared at herself in the mirror. Could it be true? She ran her hands slowly over her breasts, which had felt swollen and tender for, well, a couple of weeks now; then over her belly.

Her belly, which was no longer flat.

She looked at the little mist-filled tube lying on the edge of the washbasin.

Zoë sat down on the bed, and tried to think. And for the first time since the Miranda incident, she smiled.

The bed smelled funky; she hadn't changed the sheets since Wash's death. His scent there had comforted her; it was all she thought she had left of him.

But now, it appeared he'd left a part of himself behind after all.

She wondered what the captain would say when she told him she was pregnant…

The Mule rolled up the ramp, bearing canned vegetables and a haunch of beef as well as the four crew members.

Simon was troubled. His young patient was recovering, but he wasn't sure it was due to anything that he himself had done. Still, the important thing was that the lad appeared to be well on the way to a full recovery.

Zoë was standing on the platform waiting for them. She wore a smile that rivaled the Mona Lisa's; Kaylee was grinning openly.

River looked behind her out at the white winter landscape and murmured to herself.

"In every generation, there is a chosen one…"

The End


End file.
